


Palindrome

by Dawn on ICE (Dawn_Blossom)



Series: reverse, reverse [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, luckily the banquet happens ;), reverse au, this covers the same time period as 'emordnilap' - GPF to Victor showing up in Hasetsu, too bad he thinks yuuri wants him to stay away... so he DOES, victor's been totally enamored with Yuuri for years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 05:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10237328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Blossom/pseuds/Dawn%20on%20ICE
Summary: 23-year old Victor Nikiforov, Russia's living legend, has just won gold at the Sochi Grand Prix Final. He should be thrilled. He isn't.But after Yuuri Katsuki, world's greatest skater and Victor's longtime idol, shows him the time of his life at the banquet, is it any wonder that Victor flies off to Japan to become Yuuri's student?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody! If you've read "Emordnilap" then you'll know I was planning to write Victor's POV, so... here it is!
> 
> If you haven't read "Emordnilap" then you might want to, since it's Yuuri's POV of these events. You don't have to read it to understand this story or anything, though, so if you don't want to read it or if you want to read this one first, that's totally cool. ^u^
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!

Victor Nikiforov, the 23-year old skating prodigy, “Russia’s Living Legend,” and one of the greatest skaters in Men’s Singles history (or, if you were to ask some of his fans, _the_ greatest, though Victor himself would prefer that title go to Yuuri Katsuki) should be ecstatic right now. After all, he just won his first gold medal at a Grand Prix Final in the senior division, and after years of coming in second and third, he knows he ought to be thrilled, or something… Proud, maybe? A little excited, at least?

Instead, he feels hollow.

But really, how is he supposed to be happy when Yuuri Katsuki, world’s greatest skater and the entire source of Victor’s inspiration for almost half of his life, has somehow managed to skate his programs so poorly as to come in sixth place. That is, last. Last, at the competition he’s completely owned for the past five years. Victor would feel concerned anyway; that he has a gold medal around his neck that would normally go to Yuuri just makes him feel worse.

To be fair, not all of this empty feeling inside him stems from Yuuri’s unexpected loss. Victor has felt drained and uninspired for the better part of a year, but he’d thought… He’d thought he’d stand next to Yuuri on the podium and feel better again, because every time Victor felt lost, he would watch clips of Yuuri and remember just what he was skating for.

But now Victor can’t remember what he was skating for at all. Taking gold now, of all times, feels like catching up to a dream that no longer exists. 

And Victor is tired.

Yuuri Katsuki should not have lost to him like this, not when Victor isn’t at his best.

 _’I wish I could say something to him,’_ Victor thinks miserably. Words of comfort, words of encouragement, anything that would make Yuuri feel better. All athletes have bad days, but Victor had watched Yuuri skate, and he’d looked… defeated. It was a look Victor had never expected to see on his idol’s face, and he never wanted to see it there again. He would do anything to keep a smile on Yuuri’s face, but…

_’Too bad we aren’t even friends,’_

Despite competing against each him for years, Victor has never been able to befriend Yuuri. And not from lack of trying on Victor’s part, either. It’s just that every time Victor comes close, Yuuri finds a reason to leave. And if, for whatever reason, he has to interact with Victor, Yuuri is as stiff as a board and obviously incredibly uncomfortable, although he is unfailingly polite nevertheless. So Victor, who doesn’t want Yuuri to ever be unhappy, contents himself with the friendly greetings expected of competitors and does not push Yuuri for more.

(But in his dreams, it’s Yuuri who pushes _Victor_ for more.

“I love your skating,” Yuuri would murmur in his ear. “Is it for me?”

“Yes,” Victor would answer breathlessly, because every routine he’s ever skated has been at least a little bit for Yuuri.

And then they’d make out, and later on they’d get married. 

Sure, it’s unrealistic, but Victor likes imagining it, anyway.)

Victor forces a smile onto his face and arranges himself into a pose so that the cameras can capture him better. He doesn’t want this moment to be captured, really, and he certainly feels more miserable than the public will ever know. But he pretends anyway, with practiced ease. Victor’s used to running from his feelings, anyway. After all, it was what had led him to the ice in the first place.

Victor has been skating since he was seven years old. It had been an escape for him, something he could turn to when his parents went out and left him alone, or, worse, stayed around the house and steadfastly ignored his presence.

And for five years, that’s all it had been. Just a means of escape. And it might have stayed that way, except for the fact that 12-year old Victor had discovered Yuuri Katsuki, the 16-year old who had just taken gold at the Junior Grand Prix Final.

Victor had known that there were competitions for skating, but he had never really cared before. Skating was his solace, his comfort, and why would he want to get other people involved? But when he saw Yuuri, something in him changed.

_’He’s so, so beautiful. I want to skate like him,’_ Victor had thought. _’Look at how he gives himself to the ice. He gives himself to the audience, too. I didn’t know skating could be like this.’_

And for the next two years, Victor had spent every second of his free time practicing, trying to imitate Yuuri down to the slightest subtle movements (not that he could ever match Yuuri, of course he couldn’t, but oh, _god,_ could try).

Then Yakov had scouted him at 14, and Victor had become a rising star, the Russian prodigy. Still, no matter how good he got at skating, no matter how many medals he won, Yuuri Katsuki always stayed ahead of him. Victor doesn’t mind, because as much as he wants to win gold, Yuuri is just better than him, and Yuuri deserves every gold that he gets.

But if he could win a gold medal in a competition against Yuuri, well, that would be a dream come true.

At least, that’s what he had thought before it had happened. And this, oh, this is not a dream but a nightmare.

But there are reporters swarming him now, so Victor can’t let anyone know about his true feelings. Instead, he laughs loudly and pretends it’s the happiest day of his life.

* * *

“Do you think we’ll see Yuuri before we leave?” Victor asks his 15-year old rinkmate Yuri Plisetsky, thought 8 years Victor’s junior, is the only other skater Yakov coaches who _gets_ how much Victor adores Yuuri Katsuki. Yuri admires Yuuri, too, although Victor is absolutely without a doubt Yuuri’s biggest fan (a title he will, in fact, fight for). Yuri could probably be Yuuri’s second biggest fan, though (not that Yuri would ever admit this, but Victor knows. He can recognize a fellow fan when he sees one, and maybe that sense of solidarity was the reason why he found himself becoming a sort of mentor to the teenager).

“Hell if I know. He looked really fucked up,” Yuri says, sounding almost guilty for some reason. But before Victor can inquire any further, Yuri stiffens and looks away. “Shit, he’s like, staring at us.”

“Yuuri is?” Victor asks dazedly.

“Fuck, move already,” Yuri hisses, pushing past Victor to walk on the other side of Yakov.

But Victor can hardly just walk away. He has enough trouble turning his body around. Surprise flickers across his face as he sees that Yuuri really is there, staring at him. Their eyes meet, and surprisingly, Yuuri doesn’t immediately avert his gaze.

Victor almost says something. He wishes he could say something. He opens his mouth, but his words fail him (three languages, and he can’t think of a single thing in any of them) and so he closes his mouth again without making a sound.

And then Yuuri turns away. 

Victor tries not to feel disappointed as he watches Yuuri walk out of the building.

He isn’t sure how long he stares after him, but he’s eventually snapped out of his trance by a sharp yank on his arm.

“You look like an idiot. Let’s go, already,” Yuri growls.

Victor puts on his cheerful grin, and he laughs.

“Oh, are you wanting me to go over your programs with you?” he asks loudly and in English, because this is a performance for the crowd, not for Yuri. “Of course! Haha, sorry, everyone, but I can’t leave Yuri waiting,” he says charmingly, waving one of his hands at a couple of reporters as he walks out.

“Ugh, you disgust me,” Yuri mutters.

“You’ve mentioned that before, Yura,” Victor replies unapologetically.

* * *

Victor doesn’t like the banquets. At least, he hasn’t for several years. There was a time when he enjoyed meeting new people, charming skaters and sponsors alike, and hearing whatever interesting news happened to be discussed. But that had become boring rather quickly, and now going to the banquet feels more like a chore than anything.

But Yuri’s there this year, so Victor tries to pretend that he’s genuinely excited. No sense in poisoning Yuri’s experience, right?

“Why don’t you try to make some friends, Yura?” Victor suggests good-naturedly, ignoring the glare Yuri gives him.

And as Victor makes his way around the room, he wishes that _he_ had a few more friends to make things more bearable. He does have Christophe Giacommetti, but… well, when Chris comes to a party like this, his first order of business is making sure that he doesn’t leave alone. Victor can respect that, but he doesn’t want to join him, and so after they catch up for a few minutes, Victor leaves his friend to his own devices. That’s how every banquet has gone for the past five years, and this one is no different. 

What _is_ different, though, is what happens after.

Victor isn’t doesn’t see how it starts, but pretty soon a small crowd is gathered around a space in the center of the room where two people are, apparently, engaged in a dance battle.

Victor’s only a little surprised to find that one of them is Yuri. 

_’I guess that’s one way to make friends,’_ Victor thinks, chuckling as he catches a glimpse of the serious expression on Yuri’s face.

Yuri is so competitive that it makes total sense that he would find himself in a dance-off, even though Yakov will probably yell at him for it later (and probably at Victor, too, for not stopping him, although Victor doubts that he could have even if he wanted to, which he definitely doesn’t.)

The crowd shifts slightly, and Victor finally sees who Yuri’s up against. 

If he’d been drinking something, he would have done a spit-take.

“Yuuri!” he exclaims, the name leaving his lips before he can think better of it.

Yuuri Katsuki, who never drinks at parties and usually stands stiffly in a corner (talking to everyone who approaches him, but never approaching anyone) is very drunk and _very_ far from being stiff.

“Yuuri!” he calls again, trying to push through the people in front of him. There’s too much resistance, though, and Victor is only saved when someone catches sight of him and yells at the others.

“Hey, let the new gold medalist through! Maybe they’ll fight it out on the dance floor, too,” a man shouts, garnering a few cheers of approval as people start shifting to allow Victor to finally get through.

“Y-Yuuri,” Victor says again, his breath hitching as he speaks.

Yuuri Katsuki is without a doubt the hottest person on the entire planet. Victor had always thought this, of course, but after seeing him like this, with his hair messed up and his face flushed and his tie loosened, Victor can’t even hope to hide how attracted he is right now.

While he’s staring, dumbfounded and red-faced, at Yuuri, he watches as Yuuri’s confused frown morphs into a broad grin.

 _’That’s the happiest he’s ever been looking at me,’_ Victor thinks in awe. 

Suddenly, the world snaps into focus, and Victor takes a couple steps forward as he tries to remember how to act like a professional skater again.

“Hi, Yuuri! I see you’ve met Yura!” Victor says with all the cheerfulness the people expect of him. “He’s a lucky guy to get to dance with you. You don’t normally dance at these events, do you?”

The question is rhetorical, because Victor knows perfectly well that Yuuri has never danced at a single party that Victor’s been at. He turns down everyone who asks. 

And as much as Victor is happy for his unofficial protégé, he’s also the slightest bit jealous. How is it that Yuri managed to get Yuuri to warm up to him when nobody else ever could? Does sharing a name really bring that much of a connection? Damn it, why hadn’t Victor’s parents named him “Yuri” too?

Victor is quickly distracted from these very unhelpful thoughts when Yuuri staggers forward, getting incredibly close to Victor’s face.

“Do you wanna dance with me, too?” Yuuri suggests excitedly. “You’re right, I don’t normally do this. It’s… it’s a… special occasion,” he continues, giggling.

Giggling.

Several thoughts come to Victor all at once.

_’He’s so different like this. I wish I’d seen him drunk years ago,’_

and

_’He’s adorable,’_

and, most importantly

_’He asked me to dance with him.’_

“Really?” Victor asks, his face growing warmer. “I’d love to dance with you,” he continues quickly, before this opportunity can escape him.

Yuuri beams up at him, and Victor realizes _just_ how close they are. Yuuri’s brown eyes are sparkling with joy, and Victor doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight.

“What the fuck? I knew you were hopeless, but this is just pathetic. There’s no way in hell I’m watching you dance with him; I’d throw up,” Yuri growls at Victor in Russian. Before Victor can respond, though, Yuri has switched to English to yell at Yuuri. “I’m coming back for a rematch, so don’t you dare let him exhaust you,” he demands, gesturing agitatedly towards Victor.

Yuuri laughs.

“Nooo problem. See ya, Yuraaaaa,” Yuuri drawls.

And then Yuuri puts his hand on Victor’s arm, and three dances pass in a heartbeat.

“I can’t believe how good we are at dancin’ together. It’s like we were made t’dance together. I think this is the most fun I’ve ever had, ever,” Yuuri rambles, apparently unaware of how close Victor’s heart is to bursting with happiness at those words.

“I’m having fun, too, Yuuri,” Victor says with a laugh, and that’s the understatement of the century.

He hasn’t felt so genuinely happy in months. He hasn’t felt so _alive_ in… Has he ever felt this alive before?

“Are you planning to do this next year, too?” Victor continues hopefully.

“I won’t be there next year,” Yuuri says, the grin on his face unsuited for the absolutely devastating statement he just uttered. “But you can keep up the tradition if you want,” he continues as if he didn’t just stab Victor straight in the heart.

“What do you mean… you won’t be there…?” Victor asks slowly. Maybe he’s just misunderstanding. Maybe Yuuri is planning on hosting his own alternative to the banquet next year. He’s so famous that the ISU would probably let him do that if he wanted. Sure, that’s probably it.

“I’m retiring,” Yuuri says, shattering Victor’s shallow hopes.

Victor doesn’t understand.

“It’s about time, don’tcha think? The press’s been nagging me ‘bout it for years,” Yuuri tries to explain.

Victor still doesn’t understand.

“You can’t let them bully you out of the sport! Nobody wants you to leave!” Victor protests desperately.

It’s true that at 27, no one would think badly of Yuuri for wanting to retire. But… But figure skating still needs him! Victor still needs him!

“Nah, lotsa people want me to leave. Like, uhhh, that Canadian guy, he wants me out, and, and, uh… Mickey, yeah, ‘cause he thinks I like Sara even though I _don’t,_ Victor. I don’t like her like that, okay, remember that. I’m not seein’ anybody, Victor, ‘cause I’m hopin’ that… oh, wait, but I’m talkin’ to you right now! Victor, y’know, you’d be better off if I retired, too, ‘cause… you gotta get all the golds, Victor,” Yuuri rambles, making it hard for Victor to follow.

But then Yuuri slumps forward, and maybe it’s a mistake, but obviously Victor has to support him, which means he has to put his arms around him.

 _’It’s definitely a mistake,’_ he realizes immediately, because his hands are _on Yuuri’s ass._

But Yuuri doesn’t pull away from him. Instead, he clings onto Victor even harder.

“Don’tcha read the stuff online? People have been waitin’ for years for me to get outta your way. Don’tcha want me to leave already?” Yuuri continues, looking up at Victor like he really believes that Victor should be thrilled to learn of Yuuri’s impending retirement.

It hurts.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Victor says quietly. “I would miss you,” he admits.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Yuuri says as he starts to pat Victor’s shoulder. “You can come visit me in Japan. My family runs an onsen! It’s really great. You should come.”

And then, as if Yuuri inviting him to his home wasn’t enough of a shock, Yuuri giggles and presses himself even closer to him and practically _gyrates_ against him.

 _’I’m a professional athlete,’_ Victor reminds himself. _’And I am not going to moan Yuuri’s name in front of dozens of competitors, coaches, and officials.’_

He does not moan, but it’s very difficult.

“Hey, I got an idea!” Yuuri exclaims, and Victor, who can’t possibly form words at this moment, just hopes his stare encourages Yuuri to go on.

And oh, he goes on.

“You lookin’ for a new coach, Victor? You’re the best skater ever, but you could be even better. I could teach you! If I win the next dance-off, you’ll do it, won’t you? Victor? Let me coach you!”

At first, Victor can only gasp. He swallows thickly, trying to think of a response.

In truth, Victor had never considered leaving Yakov. After all, his coach had been there for Victor since he was a teenager. Yakov is practically a father figure to him!

But then, don’t all children seek independence at some point?

And this is Yuuri Katsuki. Victor wouldn’t be able to deny this man anything, especially not after tonight.

So he nods his assent.

“O-Okay,” he says.

Yuuri’s next dance-off happens to take place on a stripper’s pole, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else has to say about it, Yuuri _definitely_ wins.

* * *

“Vitya, I don’t care what he said when he was drunk, Yuuri Katsuki does _not_ want you showing up on his doorstep demanding him to coach you,” Yakov tells him for what is probably the hundredth time.

And Victor had believed him the other 99 times. Because yes, Yuuri was drunk, and the whole thing did seem very out of character for him, and, yes, the situation Victor was describing does sound like something straight out of his fantasies (but it really happened! Yura was there! Ask Yura!) and Yuuri had never actually contacted him since that night, so maybe it was all a misunderstanding.

Only now Victor has proof that it wasn’t.

Because Yuuri had posted a video of him skating Victor’s program (“Stay Close to Me,” the one about longing for someone else, the one Victor always skated with Yuuri in mind). Only he had changed some of the choreography, taking the program to even greater heights.

If that doesn’t say “Come be my student, Victor,” then Victor doesn’t know what would.

The hard part, of course, is leaving the rink where’s he’s spent nearly a decade of his life.

“You know what this means to me, Yakov,” Victor says, unable to keep the desperation out of his voice

“You are behaving extremely stupidly,” Yakov snaps. “Are you so eager to give up your career? If you leave now, I won’t take you back.”

Victor knows well enough by now that Yakov probably would take him back. But that’s not the point, because if he doesn’t find whatever it is he needs with Yuuri, there will be no coming back for him.

“Don’t you get it? If I stay here, my career will be over,” Victor snaps right back. “Haven’t you noticed how my skating has suffered? How am I supposed to go on like this?”

“Running off to Japan won’t help you, Vitya!” Yakov growls. “You’re only going to hurt yourself.”

Victor looks at Yakov, and he can see the true worry underneath his anger.

But that doesn’t mean Victor’s going to give in.

“I’ll take that risk,” he says coolly. 

“You—“ Yakov starts, but Victor is tired of this conversation already.

“Goodbye,” Victor cuts him off, pressing a kiss to Yakov’s cheek.

He boards his flight and he doesn’t regret it.

* * *

“Yuuri! I’m here to be your student!” Victor says, standing up from the hot springs and grinning.

Yuuri looks shocked, and there’s absolutely no sign of him having expected to see Victor.

“W-Why would you want that?” Yuuri asks. “I’m not a coach or anything.”

And with those words, a single seed of fear implants itself in Victor’s heart. Maybe he _will_ get hurt.

“Because you’re the only one who can take me further than where I am now,” Victor says honestly. “I’m going to make it to the Grand Prix Final again, and this time just winning gold isn’t good enough.”

He’ll still take the risk, because Yuuri is worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you notice any errors I can correct, please let me know and I'll try to fix them!


End file.
